The Reunion

by Sara Portman

  Emma wondered who else knew how low the old duke had sunk in abandoning his family. Why, if she had children of her own, she would protect them at any cost.

  Silly thoughts, really. Old maids living in country cottages did not have children. For that matter, neither did they engage in the kind of activity in which she had been an enthusiastic participant only minutes before.

  Emma leaned against the wall and touched her fingers to her lips—where he’d kissed her. She knew why she’d allowed him to kiss her. No rationale her mind could conjure would have been strong enough to fight her body’s will while his lips had hovered near hers. But why had he kissed her? She’d broken the engagement. It was over. They were not to be man and wife.

  He should not have kissed her. He would have no reason or occasion to kiss her again.

  She had no sound reason to feel disappointment.

  Chapter Seven

  Four bawdily laughing gentlemen strolled through the arbor, crossing the very path toward which John had unceremoniously shoved Emma just seconds before. He’d managed to strike a casual pose on the bench before they spotted him, but not a single muscle in his body was relaxed. Every bit of him was tense, every sense still very much alive.

  “Is that you, Worley?” one of them asked.

  He couldn’t name any of them, but recognized the lot as a group of young pups Brydges had pointed out at the Fairhavens’, bragging of besting one or two of them in cards.

  “Thought I’d take some air,” John answered, gratified that his voice came out as its normal baritone. “It’s a mad crush in there.”

  The shortest one stepped forward with a saucy grin. “Can’t blame you for needing an escape. I’d vow the ladies are three to one with gents this evening. Fellow can’t find a moment to himself.”

  “That’s a lot of hogwash coming from you,” one of the others chimed in. “You’ve been chasing Miss Denton around the floor all evening.”

  “Ah, but I wonder,” another one questioned. “Is he chasing her full bodice or her father’s full pockets?”

  “Both, I suppose,” the first one admitted, not at all ashamed of himself.

  John rose and gave a curt nod. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to your amorous strategies.” He had neither the mood nor the composure at that moment for inane chatter, though he considered as he walked away that he was grateful for the interruption. In all truth, he doubted he’d have had the presence of mind to stop before things had gotten further out of hand if not for their near discovery.

  It was poorly done of him. Wouldn’t be the first time an engaged couple had been caught in a premature embrace, but he’d specifically set out to overcome, not increase, the scandal attached to his family. He’d have enough explaining to do when he presented Charlotte to society. He didn’t need to cultivate a reputation as a seducer of innocents.

  He just couldn’t seem to deny himself the kiss, not when she’d given it so sweetly.

  He was committed to marrying for Charlotte’s sake, but he never expected to be so happily reconciled to his choice. He was attracted to her. Very much. Not surprising, he supposed, given she was a very appealing woman.

  He also genuinely liked her. Very much. That bit was more surprising. He had not expected her to understand. Most women would have considered Charlotte’s fate unrecoverable and would have considered him more the fool for voluntarily following after her. But he had seen her indignation on his sister’s behalf. He was sure of it.

  Yes, Emma would be a better wife than he had hoped to find and a better, more understanding champion than he could have hoped for Charlotte. He could not possibly allow her to end the engagement now.

  * * *

  After a brief visit to the ladies’ withdrawing room to confirm the acceptability of her appearance, Emma returned to the ballroom. She stood in the corner, sipping lemonade and watching the dancing, as she was still a bit too disordered to socialize. She felt someone step up beside her and her pulse quickened.

  Annoyed though she was with her reaction, she looked up anyway, only to discover it was not John, but the man she had seen with him before. The gentleman’s golden looks and manly physique made him handsome despite his less than crisp appearance, but the mockery in his eyes put Emma off from the start.

  “Excuse my impropriety, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, madam, and I was too impatient to await an introduction. I am Hugh Brydges.” He gave a slight bow that was barely more than a nod and yet managed to be debonair all the same.

  His charm seemed a bit too affected. She eyed him warily. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brydges, though I suspect you already know who I am.”

  He nodded in concession. “Will you fault me for my concern for a friend, Lady Emmaline? I consider the duke a great friend and wished to become acquainted with his fiancée.”

  Emma chose neither to confirm nor deny the title of fiancée to the duke. She merely kept her expression guarded and sipped her lemonade. “Have you known the duke long?” she asked eventually.

  “All my life.” His answer was a bit more vehement than she expected. “Have you?”

  “If you are truly his great friend, you know the answer to that question.”

  His laugh was brittle. “I suppose I do, but I could not help asking it.”

  She turned to face him full on. “Was there something in particular you wanted to know about me, Mr. Brydges?”

  He looked out among the dancers as he answered her, as though the conversation were not important enough to warrant his undivided attention. “Merely a general curiosity, I assure you. But I suppose I already know all that is pertinent.”

  “If you know so much about me, you must know I am not among society much. I’m afraid I am inexperienced with such sophisticated customs as veiled insults, Mr. Brydges, and prefer to hear mine directly. What, in particular, do you feel compelled to say to me?”

  He gave up all pretense of civility and sneered in disgust. “Already the haughty duchess. This is all very convenient for you, isn’t it?”

  “Convenient for me? Are you under the impression that I have forced the duke to honor the engagement against his will—that I am the one who will not sever the betrothal?”

  “I only observe how cooperative you are in marrying a man you do not know, and that in doing so you will, gratifyingly, become a duchess.”

  “It seems you observe very little, Mr. Brydges. You can know nothing of me and my reasons for doing anything.”

  “I am well aware of Worley’s purpose for marrying. Determining yours does not require much in the way of deductive reasoning.”

  “If you know his purpose for honoring this betrothal, you know it is for his convenience and not mine.”

  “His convenience?”

  “Certainly. I was inconvenient four years ago for your friend the duke, but have apparently now become the opposite. It seems I serve at his pleasure.”

  “Ah yes, this has all been at his pleasure.” His eyes flashed with anger. “I’m sure his exile in Boston was rather like a holiday. I’m certain a lowly shipping clerk lives nearly as comfortably as an English duke.”

  That gave Emma pause. “Are you saying he took a post as a clerk in Boston?”

  He smirked at Emma’s reaction to his revelation. “I’m afraid those with no access to family wealth must fall back on employment to survive. It’s a very American attitude, apparently.”

  Emma was silent, ignoring the man’s sarcasm. Why had the thought not occurred to her before? John had no support from his father or access to any funds of his own. Many of his peers would not have possessed the resourcefulness to find appropriate employment. In truth, most of his peers would not have gone in the first place.

  Her lack of response only fueled Mr. Brydges’s tirade. “I see you are suitably shocked to discover your gallant duke was employed in trade during his absence. I wonder, do you consider that a fate worse than death for a gentleman? Perhaps marriage to
Worley will not be so elevating after all.”

  Emma had heard enough of this man’s ridiculous spouting. “You, sir, claim to be a great friend to the duke, but do him a disservice. How dare you imply his efforts to protect his family were less than honorable? Any woman should consider a marriage to the duke elevating, not because of his title but because of the noble sacrifice he made for his family. I wonder if you, sir, could make the same choice if called upon to do so.”

  “A noble sacrifice, is it? I gather you’ve already been practicing your speech of explanation for the gossips. Very well done, really, with just the right note of passion. If you fail in your quest to become a duchess, you might give Drury Lane a try.”

  Emma’s fists balled at her sides. What had she done to earn this man’s venom? She had no earthly idea where it originated, but she refused to hear another word. “You are insufferable. How dare you insult me in such a manner, particularly if you do believe I am your friend’s betrothed? I’ll have you know we’ve broken our engagement only moments ago upon my insistence. What have you to say of my quest now, I wonder?”

  Emma charged off without any sense of direction, but not before she registered his shock at her revelation. Perhaps she’d been unwise to reveal it to him. She had no way of knowing the true nature of his friendship with John. Perhaps they were close and he would tell John of her impassioned defense. She cringed. Why had she defended him so vehemently?

  Did she regret breaking the engagement?

  No. No she did not.

  Marrying for convenience—particularly the convenience of the other party—could not possibly be the path to happiness. The kiss in the garden had been a mistake. It changed nothing. It was merely an attempt by a determined man to bring her around to his will, by fair means or foul. What she had felt was simply wonder at a new experience—nothing more.

  She looked behind her. That man, Mr. Brydges, was following. Why couldn’t he simply leave her be?

  She would have asked him as much had her attention not been distracted by a disturbance to her left. She stopped and moved closer to the crowd gathering there. At first she heard only the muffled laughter of the group of onlookers, but eventually she heard voices rising above the twittering and snickering. Voices she recognized.

  “You’re that duke who disappeared for a few years, aren’t you?” she heard the elder Lady Spitzer shout.

  Oh, heavens. She was shouting at John.

  “Yes, but I mean to stay now,” Emma heard John say, raising his voice so that it, too, carried a fair distance, “I’ll not disappear again.”

  Emma wove her way through the gathered eavesdroppers until she spotted John and Lady Spitzer. John’s back was to her so she could not see his face. She could, however, see Lady Spitzer’s as she peered up at the duke. If Emma had felt tall next to the tiny old woman, John must feel a giant.

  “How fortunate for you that you are not dead,” the lady hollered, inspiring more snickers from the crowd.

  Emma heard John chuckle as well. “Fortunate, indeed.”

  “What was that?” Lady Spitzer tipped toward him.

  “I said, it is fortunate indeed,” John repeated, shouting this time.

  “Not so for your uncle, I imagine. Poor man thought he’d inherited, I suppose.”

  “Great uncle, actually,” John called back to her, though she stood less than a foot from him. “And I understand he was relieved, though I’ve never met him.”

  “What was that?” She squinted as she asked it, as though she couldn’t quite see him either.

  “I’ve never met him.”

  “You’ll have to put your house in order now,” Lady Spitzer stated loudly. “You’ll need a wife and an heir.”

  “Certainly.”

  Several onlookers noticed Emma’s presence behind John and her cheeks blazed under their scrutiny.

  “You had best have a short engagement,” the old woman counseled loudly. She gave a decisive nod as though her word settled the matter.

  Emma did not turn, but she was keenly aware of Mr. Brydges, standing a few yards away, also taking in the spectacle. She lifted her chin and waited for John to confirm to the rest of the party what she had already revealed to his friend.

  “On the contrary, Lady Spitzer,” she heard him say. “I have been engaged these four long years. But I assure you,” he called out, “we will now be married with all due haste.”

  Emma’s eyes flashed to Mr. Brydges in time to witness the triumph he displayed before he gave a mocking bow and, stepping back, was enveloped by the crowd.

  Chapter Eight

  “I am convinced he is the most arrogant, high-handed, insensitive man in the whole of England.”

  Emma marched through the front door of her uncle’s town house with such ferocity, she nearly overturned a porcelain urn standing on one side of the entryway.

  Her uncle smiled blandly as he watched one of the footmen rush to steady the rocking object. “My dear, don’t be so sure. I’d say the House of Lords is packed to overflowing with arrogant and high-handed men from all corners of the British Isles.”

  “Perhaps, Uncle, but I do not take exception with those men, as they have not chosen to practice their arrogance upon me.” Emma untied the green ribbons of her bonnet and pulled it from her head. “Even considering the rampant arrogance you claim runs through the peerage, I defy you to name one other lady among the congregation at St. George’s today whose first knowledge of her pending nuptials occurred when she heard her own name during the reading of the banns in church.”

  Emma still seethed from it. She had been so angry upon hearing it, she had nearly called out her objection. She should not have been surprised, not after his shouted announcement to Lady Spitzer on the prior evening. Every time she began to believe there was decency in him—that he might be capable of some consideration for her—he proved otherwise by taking some high-handed action that rendered her powerless in her own life.

  “You can hardly claim ignorance of the betrothal, Emma.” Aunt Agatha removed her own bonnet as she stepped into the hall. “That very subject has occupied your thoughts and everyone else’s for much of the past several days.”

  “Still, he knew very well I was not resigned to the marriage. Calling for the banns to be read was premature.”

  To think, the insufferable Mr. Brydges had suggested she might possess the talents for Drury Lane. He should look to his friend the duke instead. All his apologies for disregarding her feelings were clearly a grand performance. How very smug he must feel, thinking he had her well and trapped after shouting his intentions last evening and ordering the banns the next day. “How very efficient he is. Well, I’m not trapped yet. I can still maneuver out of this.”

  “Are you quite sure you want to, dear?” her uncle asked.

  “Have I ever given you any reason to doubt it?”

  “Have you thought of the poor girl whose debut he’s orchestrating?” Aunt Agatha asked. “Think of what she’ll face—navigating London society when she’s known nothing but a simple life in Boston. Only think how difficult that will be for her.”

  “I’m sure you are correct, but I could not imagine a less suitable person to ensure Lady Charlotte a successful debut. Mine, as you’ll recall, was a dismal failure.”

  “Perhaps.” Aunt Agatha studied the flower arrangement on the hall table rather than her niece. She plucked several stems from the vase and placed them to better advantage. “I suppose Marion Gilchrest, or perhaps Lady Wolfe would be better equipped to take the girl through her paces. Their daughters are quite accomplished.”

  Emma’s guilt swelled at the thought of the inexperienced Charlotte under the tutelage of a hawk such as Lady Wolfe. She shook her head. “I know your game, Aunt, and it will not succeed. I do sympathize with young Charlotte, but that is not sufficient reason to marry her brother.”

  Aunt Agatha dropped her ruse of flower-arranging and faced her niece. “Perhaps it is not sufficient reason on its own, dea
r, but when all the other, perfectly sufficient reasons have failed to sway you, I thought it might tip the scales.” Her wan smile was barely apologetic. “The duke’s sister will need considerable help in preparing herself to face the ton. I expect she could also use a kind and sympathetic friend, don’t you agree?”

  Much as she tried, Emma could not find an objection to refute her aunt’s logic that didn’t sound entirely selfish and unkind. She released a weary sigh.

  “I do not begrudge the duke his plans for his sister. I believe his intentions are noble and wish him great success in his endeavor. I simply don’t understand why I must be caught up in it. You heard the gossip at the Fairhaven ball,” Emma insisted. “All the ton would consider him a fool to actually marry me.”

  “But he has publicly confirmed his intention to do so. If you do not marry him, they will consider you the fool.”

  “Aunt Agatha!” Emma couldn’t dispute the claim, but she hadn’t expected such plain speaking from her aunt.

  “I mean no insult, my dear—only to share the truth of it. You know by now my wishes for this marriage have nothing to do with the opinions of society. I have no sons or daughters of my own to see married. If the Ridgley name bears some tarnish for a broken engagement, your uncle and I should be affected very little, if at all.” She stepped forward to take Emma’s hands. “I seek only your security and happiness, my dear. Do you truly believe you’ll be happiest living alone in your cottage, with no husband or children to care for? I know your memories of your mother are deepest there, but that can only lead to melancholy.”

  Emma sighed heavily. In truth, the counsel of her aunt and uncle was not lost upon her, and, righteous indignation aside, this decision bore so many facets, her mind was befuddled by them. “I wish I had never been affianced to him,” she said wistfully.